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http://www.combat-diaries.thewhyfiles.co.uk The Alternative Fortean Times
Panzerben's Combat Diary 13 for September/October 2003) http://www.combat-diaries.thewhyfiles.co.uk
A leading Magonian Skeptic confesses to his beloved wife that he has seen a UFO, has had paranormal experiences, and now believes in aliens. Panicking and aghast Brentford pelicans can be seen outside the window as the rumour spreads throughout the town.
Magonian Skeptics try to stop one of Panzerben’s snorting pachyderms from reaching Pelican HQ in Brentford Leisure Centre. The man lying down is the Brentford Polonius. As usual, he is resting, not dead. Contents: Editorial
Chapter 1: On the Need for New Criteria of Diagnosis of Psychosis in the Light of Mind Invasive Technology. Carole Smith Chapter 2: Cyborg Liberation Front Erik Baard Chapter 3: Reverse-Engineering Roswell UFO Technology Bill Sherman Chapter 4: The Day I met Charles Fort Dr. Patricia Farson. Chapter 5: UFO Sightings over Nuclear Facilities Todd Lemire Chapter 6 Star Children Mary Rodwell Chapter 7: Events at Batley Boiler House George Shenston Chapter 8: UFO and Fortean Reports Mike Hazard
Book Reviews (held over this month )
Letters to your Editor (held over over this month)
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Meet the Team of Panzerben:
FORTWATCH
Dr. Patricia “Arson” Farson. A street magician, a magical vampire person, and UFO Contactee. She acquired her middle name in an incident that South Kensington remembers to this very day. Now lives in the House of Panzerben, visited by a stream of her many social workers and/or probation officers. Still hard at work on her autobiography, Memoirs of a Fallen Programmer, parts of which will soon appear in the Combat Diaries. With her boy friend Alan Catel (below) she manages
Dream Echelon, a Portobello group that after n years rehearsing for got its first gig recently. Trendy. Upper-middle-class. Parents long in despair. Had great hopes after the troubled public launch of their reluctant debutante daughter, but she proved to have brains, always an English upper-middle-class nightmare. As a brainy person, she avoided the usual British fate of being locked up in the west wing like a misshapen dwarf. She has received much praise, publicity, and not a little Ufological notoriety for her article The New Cromwellians that appeared in Combat Diary 12. An expanded and much more detailed episode of this fascinating story will appear in the bumper Christmas issue of the Combat Diaries. In this festive piece, she will show in far greater detail the complete history of Magonian attempts at penetrating the Fortean Times. Meantime Combat Viewers will be intrigued I am sure with Patricia’s tale of how she escaped England, Home, and Beauty. Watch this space. It’s all true.
THE ADVENTURES OF PROD AND TONTO
The doings of Prod, Tonto, and Murk, our two UFO “investigators” and their Controller, have aroused most interest of all continuing features of the Combat Diaries Continuing our practice of using different writers, this current
George Mavis
episode of the investigative lives of our three gallants is written by professional conspiracy writer and researcher, George Shenston, and his harassed assistant Mavis Powell. I must confess here and now however that I am not at liberty to reveal George’s name proper, with regard to his personal safety. His skills certainly reveal themselves in this episode, which is a complete mini-drama with a plot and characters, and internal and external scenes.
George’s main problem in life is exactly the opposite to that of my other tenants and guests: he happens to be amazingly rich. This means that he often pays for tips-offs about conspiracies. But frequently he finds however that the information received has been manufactured rather like Egyptian hawkers fashion an “ancient” icon in five minutes and sell them in the Delta for a great deal of money. That he has fallen head over heels in love with our very own Betty “Shackster” Baxter, is another of George’s problems, of which more later.
INVESTIGATIONS Dr. Betty “Shackster” Baxter from Darkest Knightsbridge, on good repute said to be the greatest computer hacker since the great Fred Klaxon of Wakefield (RIP). Left her signatures at Sellafield, CERN, Microsoft, Los Alamos, and Bill Gates Personal Organizer. These days, after a month in the House of Panzerben, she now appears to be much more relaxed, and has come down to dinner several times. This sister still spends most of her contemplative life however her large custom-built Faraday cage on the third floor. She takes no notice of Brother George Shenston, who lies often outside the submarine-like door of her cage, for all the world like a dog ready to bay at the moon, although Betty does not come out for days at a time, the cage having its own facilities. When she does choose to re-enter the world, she steps over poor brother George like Queen Elizabeth 1 over a puddle. She teases George at dinner with stories that almost turn the poor man’s brain. She tells him that the levels of manufactured falsehoods he receives (and pays for) are all part of the plots he seeks. Sometimes, when Betty is in a skittish mood, she whispers into his ear (with Mavis looking appropriately outraged) that the supposed falsehoods are how the symbol becomes intercalated into the cycle of corporeal changes. Being deeply in love with a woman who tells him such things has not made for the easiest summer in George’s life.
In the picture above, Betty is seen at a supervised Remote Viewing session. Here she is seen going into an Alpha Residual State, watched carefully by Sister Patricia Farson (above) in the background in case she starts to freak. Betty is said to be Fifth on the CIA kill-on-sight list. IQ off the scale. Very posh. Pre-war drawling accent. Overbred, with good blood from somewhere. Double First in Greats. Turned down Christchurch History Fellowship. Fine bones. Manchester girl, of course. Great Grandmother Captain Mary (WAAF) was Ultra Liaison Officer with Fighter Command Link at Bletchley. Racial memory all over the place. Mother remembers Turing smiling at her in her pram. Professors and Fellows of All Souls right through the family. And of course, member of the SPR. Dreams about Churchill, Watson-Watt, the old Navy, and T.E. Lawrence weeping in the old Tank Corps sheds at Bovington. Guardian of British mysteries. What a tripper!
DEFENCE AND SECURITY
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In the last few weeks, Moon’s personal cleanliness has improved sufficient to allow him in the kitchen as a replacement for the Seething Elmon, who is on holiday. Of late Moon has revealed a surprising memory of late mediaeval recipes, possibly the last time he was alive in the full and proper sense. He has brewed excellent rhubarb ale, prepared a fricassee of rabbits, cooked a lamprey pie, prepared dishes of stewed anchovies and served excellent cold pullet. Our anaesthetized pre-Reformation stomachs awoke with surprise and joy. Better than Elmon’s egg sausage and chips, although we dare not say as much. Elmon himself has gone on holiday to Butlin’s Holiday Camp at Brighton with his new partner (who describes himself as a “young Catholic monk” would you believe), whom we only know by the name of Siedlitz (left, below). Let’s hope that this attempt at a “holiday” (perhaps most relative and abused term in the any dictionary of British consciousness) goes better than last year. The last attempt at fabled relaxation resulted in both parties being given six months Community Service. Some would say that this is a light sentence compared with what most British folk suffer whilst attempting in vain to enjoy themselves on a typical British “holiday.”
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RETREAT, COUNSELLING AND CONFESSIONS
Another unique facility of the House of Panzerben. This is run by Jim “Sapper” Fish (ex Parachute Regiment) and his yet new girl-friend Carol Silk, a journalist from Newcastle (see picture below). I am afraid to say that Jim is a terrible lady’s man, and a string of broken hearts follows him everywhere, from the Yukon to the Hammersmith flyover. His previous girl friend, Elizabeth Barton, having discovered Jim in flagrente with the said Carol Silk, fired recently several (fortunately blank) shots from her father’s 9mm Browning at the façade of the House of Panzerben. She then entered the house, firing further shots. This would not have mattered so such if the House had not been in use at the time as a Casualty Clearing Station for the
Notting Hill Carnival. Matters were further complicated by the coincidental arrival of her majesty Sarah “Morocco” Parsons, Jim’s last but one girlfriend. Elizabeth had recently rejoined her Solemn Order and was wearing her black habit. The sight of a nun firing a pistol panicked the walking-wounded, most whom were suffering fortunately from little more than liberal burn and frenetic nostalgia.
But Elizabeth blasting away (mainly at the ceiling, fortunately), with her screaming majesty Sarah Parsons in hot pursuit was too much even for our very own ex Red Devil. He barricaded himself in his room. The story of the chase reached Aldershot in less than five minutes. We do hope that Carol Silk will ignore this unseemly introduction to Jim’s worthy Rescue & Reform Scheme for UFO Unbelievers (K&C grant applied for). It has long been the bane of all Magonians, and it is to be hoped that Carol will cope with the frequently troubled milieu of her new boy-friend. Jim’s scheme cares for manic-depressive nail-biting po-faced pelicans, dazed and confused rationalists, and all those who suffer from exposure to deadly fundamentalist media radiation from the 30-inch wide-screen Nikon. 24-hour emergency service for Confessions from casualties from all the sceptical chapels is available. Camp beds are reserved for difficult moments of doubt about the Real. Cold Turkey isolation, hot cocoa and sick bowls available free of charge for all crises of belief in Fact and “concrete evidence.” Special care facilities are available to treat the nightmares of garage-rationalists, Utilitarians, and the fear of the over-educated, fallen left-liberals, and any other suchlike who come to the House of Panzerben for holistic relief. I trust Carol is strong enough to cope when crises of Belief occur and Magonians try to snatch back doubting pelicans, as Christians try to snatch back converts who have wandered into infamous "cults" and happen to be having the time of their lives. It is the time of their lives that must be stopped first of all. The change of belief comes a bad second. They must be replugged into the 3-foot wide-screen Nikon immediately, as if it were a life-support machine. We are prepared for an attempted comeback from both her royal highness Sarah Parsons and Elizabeth Barton, and have had the door frames reinforced. Our two Taliban from the Job Club are doing well as night watchmen. They have sworn to pray silently, since anything else stops the chickens from laying, the cats disappear for days, and there are complaints from Betty about her NSA implants going wild.
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UFO and Fortean Reports
Introducing Mr. Mike Hazard. We don’t know much about Mike yet, except that he is a good collector of UFO reports. This is a photograph of him trying to be a Muslim at a Christmas Party. He finished up as an anarcho-Christian. Which serves him jolly well right. Better than nothing, we suppose. More of and from him in the next issue.
Our thanks go also to others too numerous to mention who pour in and out of the House of Panzerben seeking comfort, shelter, and what little treatment and advice is our to offer. These faces cannot be shown due to many issues and considerations and mishaps extraordinary. These mainly involve Social Security, Probation officers, Social workers, the banks, the police, the judiciary, psychiatrists, the Law, alien abductors, Men in Black, the Security Services, and in certain cases Parents, film & TV producers and parents and more film and TV producers and parents yet again. Many of these young escapees are suffering from bad liberal burn from the everlasting idiot’s lantern, and conversations about gear boxes, DIY, sport, and something called the Economy. Unfortunately we have to hand back many of those who have made it successfully over the perimeter wire, if only to see living screens that offer better viewing and in most case at least, have no license fee.
All live within a square mile of the Martyr's Memorial, Portobello Road, and only leave it on pain of death. Come night, and we all pull the beautiful devastation over us like a magical cloak of forgetting.
Watch this space, and send your articles, books for review, cartoons, poems, ideas and letters to combat-diaries@thewhyfiles.co.uk |
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